This song still gives me chills. It makes me think of Freddie Mercury and his legacy and how awesome it is, and the words are more powerful than the music. I got to thinking that this would be a good song to play at my wake, because here’s the thing: I want people to be miserable at my wake, at least at the start of it. I want women crying because they’ll no longer have a chance with me; I want men weeping manly tears that somebody as awesome as me is gone from this earth.

Side note here: there will be no funeral because I’m gonna have my organs harvested and be cremated. No sense in burying my corpse to let it rot, and spending good money on a coffin.

After this song I want an unveiling of my velvet portrait: me riding a t-rex with an albino tiger on a leash at my side, and I’m wearing a titanium crown with something explosive in my hand and a hot broad in a string bikini behind me. I want the t-rex to be eating a unicorn. There should be an American flag in there somewhere, and somebody playing guitar. Fuck yeah. And then this song will kick in:

Yes, I know, I hate almost everything Boston-related because of their annoying sports fans and teams, but this is the perfect song to kick off a party at a wake, and that’s what I want next. Get the tears out of the way, sacrifice the virgin to me and party on. I want complete strangers to have wild sex under my portrait, I want the cops to be called to break up the wake. I wouldn’t mind a few strippers, female and male. Something for everybody. Rufies optional. I want people laughing and happy, not because I’m gone but because they’re having a good time. If a few fights break out I’m cool with that, as long as there’s a bro-hug at the end and everyone is cool. Steak and beer will be the food and drink, and maybe Doritos. Yeah.

Man, I almost can’t wait to die so I can see this happen. It’s gonna be awesome.